


Asset: DEVIL

by StripedScribe



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, FebuWhump2021, Fights, Gen, I Know You're In There Somewhere, Kidnapping, Mind Control, Winter Soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedScribe/pseuds/StripedScribe
Summary: He’d been taken, taken right from under their eyes.A silence as the weekend turned into the week, and Matt didn’t turn up for work. As Foggy rang Claire, expecting to hear of him collapsed at hers, just sleeping, or just injured. Her mirrored questioning, of “I haven’t seen him for a week.”Of ringing Jess, then Luke, then Danny, all echoing the same.Bad Things Happen Bingo ["I know you're in there somewhere" fight]Day 1 Febuwhump [Mind Control]
Relationships: Frank Castle & Matt Murdock, Luke Cage & Jessica Jones & Matt Murdock & Danny Rand, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117874
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Asset: DEVIL

He’d been taken, taken right from under their eyes. A team of too many people, making false assumptions that the others had him, were checking in, checking he was still alive. He hadn’t been the same after Midland Circle, even after the months of not telling them he was alive. A silence, the Defenders took as taking advice, of getting out the city for a break, he didn’t have to tell them what he was doing. A silence, Foggy took as spending too much time out at night, a weekend of Daredevil, but at least he had people looking after him now. A silence, Claire took as having a better suit, a better understanding of when to tap out. A silence, that the Punisher knew was wrong, was abnormal, even as he watched on unbidden as they ran circles around each other, and started his own search.

A silence as the weekend turned into the week, and Matt didn’t turn up for work. As Foggy rang Claire, expecting to hear of him collapsed at hers, just sleeping, or just injured. Her mirrored questioning, of “I haven’t seen him for a week.”

Of ringing Jess, then Luke, then Danny, all echoing the same. “I thought he’d taken some advice, taken a break, finally trusted us to look after the city.”

“What do you mean, Claire doesn’t know where he is?” Of them all rushing round to Matt’s, searching for any signs of life, of clues. The chest where he kept the suit empty. Burner phone gone. An apartment just stepped out of, as though he was on patrol. No clues of when he was last in, it was tidy, as it always was. Frenzied searches, of trying to track records, in hospitals, for John Does, for Daredevil, for vigilante, for blind man, for Matt Murdock.

For Claire to stiffen with a sigh as she made the decision to check the morgue records as well.

And yet, there was still nothing. In the silence of Matt’s apartment, the clock ticking on the wall, they felt they’d exhausted all attempts at finding him. And it was Matt, if he had disappeared on his own accord, he’d do all he could to avoid them.

“But why? Why would he just disappear? We were getting better, some sort of understanding.”

“I thought he’d finally taken some advice on board and took a rest, trusted us to look after the city for a couple of nights.” They’d worked out that the last time he was seen was Friday, leaving Foggy at work and heading home. Clearly he’d got here, got the suit on and headed out at some point. But that was it. Little in the news of what Daredevil had got up to on Friday night, and nothing at all on Saturday.

Hours turned into days, closing down their own jobs to throw all their time into searching, into asking, pleading for some sort of sign. Claire carried on at work, half the patients reminding her of Matt. Running when a John Doe was brought in, seeing a shock of hair just the same as his, but it wasn’t him. Words carried down the corridor, “Calm down, he’s blind, he’s scared,” to reveal a kid, the slow tap of a cane actually a walker. A laugh, just like his, belonging to a stranger. Being sent home, she was too distracted, a kinder manager, telling her to sort out what was happening at home, they could manage for a couple of days, take some holiday. A holiday she would spend calling in, asking about John Does, breaking into records.

Pacing, too many people in one apartment, in the brief moments they all were there. A base, before they continued their searches, an ever growing spiral around the area. A sunken feeling as they all slowly realised they’d starting looking for a body, not for Matt.

And then one evening, a phone call from the Punisher, even as Foggy was preparing himself to declare Matt missing, get some help from the police, even if it resulted in his identity getting blown. “I found him. I’m going to get him out.” He rattled off an address, hanging up before Foggy even had a chance to ask any questions.

He called the others, getting them to gather back at Matt’s, with a car.

* * *

Frank had parked his van down the road, watching the house they’d taken Matt into. There’d been little sign of movement, 4 others he’d seen get out of the van with Matt, and go into the house. He couldn’t tell how many others were already there, by the size of the house it couldn’t be that many more.

As he watched, two left, walking down the road, away from his surveillance point, dressed in casual clothes. A supply run, he’d guess. Now was as best a time as any, as he slipped guns into his jacket, pulling it on over a bulletproof vest, a cap pulled low, hiding his face. He exited the van walking up towards the front door of the house, testing it to find it open. And seemingly abandoned, but he knew there must be at least 3 people in there, two handlers and the Devil.

Who, from what he’d seen, had been brainwashed, some sort of Winter Soldier deal. His face blank, following without question, even as he’d attacked people, killing them. Frank knew even if it was against his control, that would weigh on Matt forever, and vowed to not tell him he’d seen it. Even if the lie detector would soon find him out if he asked directly.

But that would be a problem for later, as he crept around the house, finding it seemingly bare. A set of stairs led upwards, to sleeping quarters he’d assume, but nowhere they’d keep an asset. No, that would be more suited to a basement, as he rounded the corner to find a set of stairs leading down, a heavy door barring the way.

Unlocked, a pathetic mistake. Gun and torch in hand, he crept down the stairs, shining a light ahead of him, soon illuminating a figure in the depths of the basement. Daredevil. Stood, at ease in the centre of the room.

“Red, you’re okay, I got you. You’re safe now.” Frank inched closer, to grab him, to stop him, it seeming easy as he stood there frozen. But a barked voice down the stairs, in an unrecognised language, left him punched in the face by the Devil, staggering backwards in shock. “Fuck.” There was nothing in his face, no sign of recognition, of any emotion. He’d been hollowed out to a blank shell, and Frank wasn’t sure how to snap him out of it. He hadn’t expected a fight against Red, shouldn’t have been so optimistic to think this would be easy, all his weapons lethal, nothing to stun, to incapacitate Daredevil without injuring him too badly. Last time he was lucky, that a shot to the head hadn’t killed him, he wasn’t going to risk that again. If it came to it, he could take a shot to the leg, or the arm, surely, enough to get him down.

A blow, a fight, circling the other, before the Devil let go, a flurry of attacks. Even with just his gloved hands, punches raised bruises, the creak of Frank’s bones not used to these close fights. A whirling circle, warning shots fired up the stairs to the handlers trying to make their way down, one landing on a limb, a cry of pain. He heard them dragging each other out, amateurs, leaving the Devil to finish off. Too much movement, not enough openings, for him to be able to get around, get behind, take him down. “Fuck, Red, stop. I know you’re in there, stop fighting me.” No sedatives on him, a foolish choice, and he was fighting away from the corners, trying to push Frank into them instead. Backed up against a wall, the bricks cool on his back, he tried to shuffle, moving sideways, trying to get up the stairs. If he could get up and out, lock the Devil in the basement until he’d cooled off, think up another plan.

His foot hit the bottom step, and he was turning, running, sprinting up the stairs, the Devil on his heels. Slamming it shut behind him, even as the red hand clawed out, after him. Collapsing on the floor, leaning against the door, even as he could hear the sounds of Red banging against it, a constant throbbing to match the bruises on his body.

“Red, the hell am I meant to do with you now? I know you’re in there, in that shell somewhere. Some sort of Soldier.” Frank listened, hearing nothing in the house besides the thumping of Red, a constant attack, which would lead him nowhere. Reaching, he locked the door, only then standing up and moving away. He knew he didn’t have the strength to break that, he was only getting out if someone unlocked it.

A chance to scout the rest of the house, to see if they’d left anything that could point a clue to stopping this, breaking whatever control they had on him. Words to trigger his attack, surely words to shut him down, at least until they could undo this.

How the hell had they managed this in the space of a week? And who else could they be doing it to, how many brainwashed heroes could they end up with, following orders like puppets.

And could it be undone, or had they lost Matt forever.

Downstairs, he heard the pounding continue. Knew that each punch must surely be drawing blood, but that Matt couldn’t stop.

The house was barren, no signs of anything that could help him to stop Matt. Not even set up a safe house, clearly somewhere they moved in between. Little food, no belongings, beds slept in but left unmade. A glance out the front saw that their van had gone, fleeing the scene, drops of blood on the tarmac where they’d dragged their wounded out.

Any clues they had were in that van, with those people. But he couldn’t just leave Matt to chase them down, as much as he felt he was losing valuable information. He was going to kill himself in there, break something, if Frank didn’t work out how to stop him. There was a rope, abandoned in one of the rooms, he took it with him as he headed back downstairs, the weight of it heavy against what he’d need to use it for.

Stood outside the door again, the blows had slowed, less energy behind them. But still that determination, that control. If he let him out, tried to take him by surprise.

Could knock him out with a quick enough blow to the head.

Preparation, unlocking the door, stepping back. Waiting for Red to realise what had happened, to stop his blows and reach for the handle, throwing it open. Diving, trying to punch him hard enough to injure, to concuss or knock out, something he could recover from. Missing, the blow never landing as the Devil dodged it, their fight resuming.

Red stiffening at a sound outside, another car pulling up. The movement enough to give Frank an opportunity, jumping, crashing them both to the ground, his weight on Red’s back. Pinning him down, the rope just in reach, even as the body beneath him thrashed, bucked, trying to throw him off.

Fighting turning to wheezing, as he pushed down harder, grabbing the rope, wrapping it around his wrists, realising he couldn’t restrain him any further without help. Hoping that the car was allies, not enemies, letting out a sigh of relief as Jess was the first one through the door, her eyes instantly locking on the scene. Of him sat on Red’s back, as he started to struggle to breathe.

“Castle! What the fuck.”

“He’s mind controlled, tried to kill me, give me a hand!” A combined effort, restraining him, hog tied in the ropes, even as he continued to move, to try and fight. Luke and Jess holding him up between them, as Foggy looked on pale faced, as Claire tried to quiz him on what the hell had happened.

“I don’t know. I need to find where they went. There was a van, I’m going to look for them. I don’t know what you can do with him, I don’t know if he’s just after me, or after whoever.”

“I could probably sedate him, knock him out until we can fix this.” Claire suggested, even as they dragged him into the back of the car, separating out. Claire, Danny, Luke and Foggy heading back with Matt, enough of a team to keep him restrained, whilst Frank and Jess tracked down the van.

At home, sedating Matt, strengthening the ties of the rope against his bed, and then just watching him, a sinking ball of nerves in all of them. Trying to research, to sneak into SHIELD files, for info on the Winter Soldier, on anything they had on brainwashing. On the dumped HYDRA files, for any hints of how to break it. Finding nothing. No quick fix, no real details on how to stop this, to switch off the control.

Frank and Jess searching the streets for the van, assuming they couldn’t have gone far with one injured, that they must be hiding low. And waiting for the others, that there were at least 4 of them in this messed up situation, another safe house, or medical house nearby.

There, the van, parked up. They pulled up behind it, killing their lights and slowly slipping out of Frank’s van. Jess pulling the back door open, instantly seeing files, documents, crates of weapons. It seemed too easy, too casual.

“They didn’t even have the door locked, they’re amateurs, don’t know what they’re doing. There must be someone else in control of this all. They were too scared to fight after I shot one of them.”

“It still seems wrong, for it to be this easy.” She lifted up a stack of files, the top one marked with a scribbled codename ‘Devil’. They grabbed all they could carry, not risking a fight when the place they needed to be was back in Hell’s Kitchen, at Matt’s side.

As Frank sped them back through the city, she poured over the files, far too much information, far too much torture. Trying to find something to help him, there must be a finish to his orders, even if they had to drag in bigger guns to fix him. Go to Stark, to SHIELD, to someone who could undo all these triggers and mind control and brainwashing.

And in the back, a mission list. A horrible, awful list of all the people he’d been used to kill. Cops, innocents, people caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their enemies, whoever had created this, turned their friend into a weapon. She felt like she could be sick.

A catalogued list of his powers. His identity. Her heart fell. He was dead. Even if he got through this, they knew who he was, had worked it out, or forced him to tell them. And an organisation such as this, one she was slowly linking to HYDRA, to IGH, to all these organisations that had their hands in the pockets of New York.

Too much power for them to deal with. Too far in over their head.

“Frank, this is beyond us. So so far beyond us.”

“I thought we might be there when Red tried to kill me.”

“Red’s file. And all these others, failed, abandoned, murdered. All these puppets they’ve had, they’ve experimented on, trying to get new Soldier’s like HYDRA’s, like Barnes.” She held them up, paper dropping to the footwell.

“They fixed Barnes. We can fix Red.”

“We can pause him. Some of these triggers, he can’t go in public, if he hears one of them, that’s it.”

“Let’s deal with tonight. Get him back to us.” Refusing to talk on it anymore, he parked the van, as close as they could get to Matt’s. Running the short distance, up the stairs, into the silence of the apartment. Expectant faces looking up at them, falling as they saw the sombre expressions.

“We can pause it, but-” His words stuttered to a close, finally realising now, that they’d brought him back, but they might not get him back. Jess carried on his words.

“He might not be the same, he won’t be the same. So many triggers, none in English, so stick to that.”

“Jess.” Frank looked out to the window, to the city. “We can’t. He can hear blocks and blocks away.”

“He’s got soundproof headphones, somewhere. They narrow it down a bit, to the room.” Foggy dragged them out of a cupboard. “He used to use them in college, before I knew about his senses, he’d say the noise was too much. After I knew about them, he’d wear them when he was injured, when he had no choice but to ignore the city. He could just hear talking, not my heart, not whatever was happening outside.”

“Okay. Okay. How long have we got Claire?” Jess had stepped up, taken charge, refusing to let anyone else read the file, read his history, his kill list. He deserved at least that.

“An hour, at least. I’ve not been able to sedate him before, don’t know how fast he burns through it.” Jess slipped the headphones onto Matt, noticing they’d removed his mask, but not his suit. His limbs restrained, to protect them, protect himself. Left on his bed, sat up against the headboard, ropes crossing him. The silken sheets usually a comfort to them all, his apartment always a place of safety, a place to crash on the bad nights, to gather on the better ones. Of countless arguments on taking his bed, him always refusing, crashing on his couch instead, the glare of the billboard nothing to him.

All they could do was wait, until he woke up again. Hope that the command worked, that some semblance of Matt remained, and that they could find someone who could help. Danny had already suggested trying to heal it out of him, admitting he didn’t even know if it would work.

They all had a feeling of having fucked up in the worst possible way. Guilt over missing his absence, of getting there too late. It was always too late with all of them. Too late to save their families, their friends. The constant poor luck of being in the wrong place in the wrong time.

With a shout, Matt awoke, panic as he tried to tear at his bonds, weak movements. Even as Luke and Jess moved into the room, to try and hold him down, stop him from hurting himself. She shouted one word, foreign on her tongue, one hope to saving Matt.

And then silence. As he just sat there, blank eyes looking outward, before his face crumpled into confusion. Panic overtaking his breathing, even as he managed to pull himself back to a seated position.

“Matt, Matt, you’re okay.”

“Fuck, Red you terrified us.”

His head whipped around, trying to track onto people, them all crowded into the same room, too much talking at once, muffled through the headphones he tried to shake off his head. Jess quickly ushered them all out, leaving just her and him in the room together, narrowing his focus..

“What happened.” His voice hoarse, quiet, terrified, even as he continued to tug against the rope. “Why, how did I end up back here.” Flashes of memory in his mind, pain, being controlled. Blank spots, missions, where he had no control, no power. Waking up with bruises and fresh scars, confusion, before plummeting into the dark again.

“Frank found you. Broke you out of there, you fought him. They made you fight him.” Shock on his face as Jess recounted the rescue, flashing to worry, to concern.

To guilt. “Frank?” He wasn’t in the room, he couldn’t hear him. What had he done? Injured him? Killed him?

“Matt, Matt, look at me. He’s fine, he’s a little bruised, but he’s fine. He was too worried about hurting you to fight properly.”

“He should have just killed me.” He’d failed, he’d been taken, used against his will, and although he knew this, he had no memory of it. Nothing to tell him what he’d done, who he’d hurt.

Who he’d killed.

A company like that, going as far as brainwashing, he must have been used to kill.

“How many people did I hurt?” A hint of the Devil’s voice, directed at her, at himself, at the people who’d taken him.

“Matt, Red, fuck, it wasn’t you. We’re going to fix this.”

“How? How can you fix what I’ve done?!” Tears were welling in his eyes even as she watched, a broken body of a man, of her friend.

“We’ll find them, make them pay.” She forced herself to stay calm, to keep her voice steady. To not fall to the fear that was climbing around them. “But first, we need to help you.”

“Help me?” He moved, as though remembering the ropes pinning him down, the headphones on his ears. The measures they’d taken to control him, before managing to switch it off.

“You don’t know. Oh shit, of course you wouldn’t know.” Breathless words, facing the impossible. And like ripping off a band-aid, she’d have to tell him. “They planted triggers in you Matt. Words, that made you follow their orders. So they could train you up, use you to fight their wars. They’re far too powerful, more powerful than we ever could imagine. The people with you, using you, were just soldiers as well, too young, too untrained to keep you. But somewhere out there, whoever did this, has the same, has better technology than what HYDRA used on the Winter Soldiers. Could get you under their control faster than he was. You’ve been with them a week Matt, and we don’t even know what they did to you.”

She didn’t know if he could break any further, but she had to carry on. “They know who you are Matt. They’ve got your identity.” And as his tears gave way to full blown sobs, she climbed onto the bed, grabbing him, hugging him, even around the rope. She wasn’t one for hugs, this was more Foggy’s role, but if anyone needed some reassurance right now, it was him. Taking care to not jostle the headphones, knowing there was a list of words in his head, and that the wrong one would end up with dead bodies around them.

Or that the wrong one would end up with Matt doing whatever he could to kill himself.

“Who knows?” A whispered word through the pain, through shaking breaths.

“All of it, just me. I found your file. Frank knows some of it, the others, very little.”

“Don’t, don’t let them in. Don’t tell them.” And the unspoken words, that Jess knew were there. ‘Don’t leave me on my own.’


End file.
